Defect
by SymphonicRedWolf
Summary: Ivan is a weapons engineer from the Soviet Union. Alfred is a young American government worker who believes everything they say about the Reds. When Ivan creates the superweapon that his country has been dreaming of, he takes it and flees to America in order to prevent his bosses from getting it. There he meets Alfred: can he keep his identity a secret for long?
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Hi everyone! Red here. So this is chapter one of my new story and I hope you guys like it. _**

**_Russian dialogue notes can be found on the bottom._**

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><p>Ivan paced around his lab, running a hand through his hair as he waited for the computer to finish its latest calculations. He was on a deadline and the white walls irritated him to no end when he was waiting, making time feel like it was dragging on. The windowless room skewed all sense of time as it was and Ivan's superiors refused to put clocks in the labs out of fear that the scientists would spend more time watching the clock than working.<p>

Ivan wished that they would let those notions go and install at least one window in his lab. It was cramped and closed off and as far as he was concerned, a little sunlight and warmth may actually do him some good. Sunlight was a good stimulant for the mind; one of his favourite things to do was spend some time outside on those rare occasions he wasn't tied down to his job.

With any luck, this test's results would produce more favourable results and he could be tasked with a different assignment. His last two tests did not yield the desired results. It got the job done to an extent, but his superiors were still not pleased. They wanted something bigger, stronger, more fearsome.

And so Ivan was sent back to R&D and after months of calculations and trials, he came up with another plausible prototype. It was protocol for all prototypes to be put through rigourous simulation experiments before any more funds were expended on creating the final product. Money was tight as it was, despite weapons and research being the most heavily funded department in the country. If the simulation results were to his bosses' liking, the project would be approved and created. Ivan spent the last hour inputting the data to the program, careful to make sure that all his changes were recorded accordingly; even the smallest deviation could make a big impact on the results.

Numbers, ever-changing, filled the screen, accompanied by other brief quantitative reports of the device's expected performance. They grew and grew in the blink of an eye; exactly what was to be expected. Again Ivan ran a hand through his messy silver hair, half-heartedly trying to smooth it out. He had been cooped up in his lab for the past several days and wanted nothing more for this round of testing to be over so he could return home to his flat. The pacing did little to keep his mind off just how painfully long the process took. He could always predict the outcome of the testing; each time it was essentially the same, save for the numbers varying slightly. Never enough for there to be cause for concern.

Perhaps it was fate that his country couldn't create the massive superweapon they were hoping for. Ivan wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, but this trial kept him employed and kept whatever food was available on his plate, so he had no real reason to complain.

But there was something about this particular test that didn't sit right with Ivan; he wasn't sure what the results would be this time and it unnerved him.

Sometime during his pacing he discarded the white lab coat that was required for all personnel, carelessly throwing it over the back of his desk chair. His ID card barely clung to the pocket as it hung upside-down, the magnetic stripe visible for all to see instead of Ivan's picture. All members of the staff were required to wear their lab coats and have their ID cards visible at all times—their facility dealt with top-secret information and security was of the utmost importance—but as head scientist, Ivan was occasionally able to get away with going without it, especially in the solitude of his own lab. He also talked his superiors into allowing him to continue wearing his favourite scarf; protocol said that only the standard uniform was to be worn in the lab, but his demands were simple: either they allow him to wear his scarf or he would walk out the front door.

Ivan's violet eyes were unreadable as he made his demands, leaving his superiors with no way of knowing whether or not the large man was bluffing or not. Did they really want to lose a scientist of his caliber over a silly piece of fabric? "What harm could a scarf do?" they decided, not wanting to risk it, and Ivan happily agreed to continue working with them.

There were times when Ivan missed his old partner, he realised as the small pang of loneliness struck, but his superiors wouldn't budge from their decision to keep him isolated. It was more efficient, they figured, to have Ivan work alone rather than with a partner. There was also a mention of safety in that, but over what he couldn't quite remember. He shook his head and sighed. He rather liked him; the timid brunet was awfully cute… Just where had he been transferred to?

But what they said went and Ivan had no choice but to comply. He pushed his luck as it was and he was afraid to find out just where the breaking point lay.

He walked back over towards the terminal to check on the progress, idly playing with his scarf tails. It gave him _something _to do and he would take whatever he could get. The simulation was still running, much to his dismay. Ivan watched the simulated footage and the numbers climbing like they always did, knowing he was working himself up over nothing. But no matter how many times he repeated that in his head in an attempt to reassure himself, the feeling of dread wouldn't leave him. It wouldn't be until he had the final printed report in his hand that he could rest easy again.

Just any second now…

He jumped as the program announced its completion to the tune of high-pitched chirps and whistles. Letting his scarf tails fall back against his body, he grabbed the mouse to pull up the in-depth details, yawning a bit. This was all so routine for him now that it was tiring.

And it was as if the universe knew that and was determined to shake up Ivan's world.

The screen flashed red and a yellow and black striped box appeared in the centre of the screen, demanding his attention. Violet eyes widened as he stared, rereading the thick letters until they finally clicked in his brain.

**Совершение** **уничтожение** **неизбежно**

Ivan couldn't print the report fast enough. He read every detail with the utmost scrutiny; had he really changed that much from the last trial to cause such a different end result this time? No, that was impossible… He was positive it was only a few little things.

He read it a second time just to be sure. Then a third time in hopes his eyes were just playing tricks on him. Long nights in the lab could often drive a person to insanity if they weren't careful and Ivan was no stranger to the harsh effects of long days and little sleep. The incident several months ago was never mentioned again, but several days of straight work with his partner pushed Ivan to the brink of his mental sanity and his frustration at the project manifested itself in the form of violence. He pulled a metal pipe off of one of their workstations and threatened the small brunet. It took a team of his coworkers to finally calm the large Russian down and get his partner medical attention for the severe head trauma he suffered.

That incident, like so many others that occurred during these times, was quickly covered up and swept under the rug, never to be spoken about again. The other members had heard rumours of Ivan's violent tendencies, but it was never confirmed by him or any of the superiors. Hiding behind his trademark smile left the others guessing and that was just how he liked it.

But this was no trick; that was made perfectly clear as he finished his third read-through, the information never changing in the slightest. This was far from an exhaustion-induced hallucination or a misread file. The danger this time was far more incredible than he had yet to see and there was only one thought on his mind.

Nobody could know. This data had never existed and he couldn't go on like this. Ivan had to disappear and he had to take this information with him.

His heart raced as he heard the familiar click of the external keypad. It chirped a small tune in acceptance of a keycard and Ivan knew he had to move _now. _Somebody was coming in and there was only one person who ever came to check on his progress.

The last person Ivan ever wanted to find out about the existence of such information.

His fingers flew at the keyboard faster than they ever had before. The warning message disappeared almost instantly and the deletion progression bar appeared on the screen in its place as the door slid open. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and immediately regretted it; his superior was walking in and his lack of proper attire was the least of his worries.

Ivan cursed up a storm in his mind as the deletion of the files dragged on, not caring that Ivan's health and well-being were on the line. If he was caught tampering with or trying to conceal data, at the very least he would find himself in jail. There would be no trial, no right of due process, nothing. And he would never be heard from again; his sisters would be worried sick with no way of knowing. He couldn't do that to them.

Fast as lightning, he shoved the reports into the small desk drawer, not caring that everything inside clattered as he pulled it open and slammed it shut. With any luck, he was too far away to hear or would assume he was just looking for a pencil. Thankfully the man continued walking casually toward Ivan, either not noticing or not letting on that he did. Ivan ran his fingers over the soft fabric of his scarf, watching the screen intently.

92%...93%...

If it continued this way, it would be all over for him. His superior was only a few metres away now and Ivan breathed a sigh of relief when the box disappeared and the files were permanently deleted. It was a huge weight off his shoulders, but he wasn't out of the woods just yet. It didn't matter which one was selected at this point; he needed some kind of results to show to his boss. He randomly selected a set of results—this one happened to be from two weeks ago—and loaded them, blocking the screen with his shoulders as he turned to greet his superior.

"Good evening," Ivan said politely, meeting his superior's eyes. He made sure to keep his voice even despite the pounding of his heart.

"Out of uniform again, Ivan?" he said, looking at the now wrinkled lab coat hanging off the chair.

"I find it restricting when I work; I prefer my normal clothes. I did not think it would be a problem in my own lab."

"It's still protocol, Ivan. How would it look if I showed you preferential treatment and not the others?"

Ivan chuckled. "When they are given the title of head scientist, then they can have several liberties too, da?" Lying came easier to Ivan than most; he could keep his voice calm in even the most desperate of situations and give nothing away in those violet orbs. It was a very valuable tool to have, especially in situations like this.

And it seemed to be working as far as he could tell. "You are to put it on the second you exit this room." Ivan nodded. "As I'm sure you're aware of, I didn't come here to chat. Do you have the results of the latest simulation?"

Ivan's heart hammered in his chest and he hoped that the man couldn't hear just how loud it was. He stayed quiet for a moment, not daring to look over his shoulder for fear of being suspicious. If he looked, his superior might suspect something was off; there was no reason for him to double-check the results. Finally he stood, not taking his eyes off the man as he moved away from the computer. The dark-haired man pushed his thin wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and took a seat without a word.

The room sat in silence, neither man saying a word for the next several minutes. Ivan idly played with his scarf tails as he waited, looking over his boss' shoulder at the screen to make sure everything checked out. His boss gave an occasional head nod as he reached the part of the report that measured destructive capabilities, but save for that, Ivan had no idea what the man was thinking.

Had he been figured out? No, impossible. The results checked out and there was no way for him to know they were recycled. He gave nothing away; no awkward twitch or refusal to answer a question. Everything happened as it always did. He didn't know, Ivan reassured himself, eyes quickly flicking to the drawer where he stashed the printed report. It was more than slightly unnerving to have his superior so close to the very information he wanted to keep secret.

His mind began to race with plans for what would happen if he decided to look through his desk. Ivan couldn't stop him; he had final say. If he wanted to look through the desk, he got to look through the desk, no questions asked. But would there be something Ivan could say to change his mind? If he changed the subject quickly enough, was it possible for the boss to forget?

Or maybe he could resort to violence… Ivan was strong; much stronger than the others that worked with him. His strong build compared to the tiny frame of his superior made it obvious who the victor would be. He could easily knock him out, steal the folder back and disappear without a trace. The metal pipe was always in reach; it was dangerous to blindly put your trust in anybody these days, especially when tensions were so high and even looking at anybody the wrong way could land you on a one-way train ride to your death.

"Your results are impressive as always, Ivan," he said, finally speaking after what seemed like an eternity of silence. Ivan let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding and smiled his usual smile. "This isn't quite what I asked of you, but it still holds good destructive capability. Keep up the good work." His boss stood, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and nodded at Ivan. "I will return in a few days to see your next round of tests; I trust you won't disappoint."

"Of course, sir. You know I would never do that." His smile grew a little wider as the boss stepped away from his desk, putting more distance between him and the very document he was trying to hide. "You will be most pleased next time."

"I have no doubt," he said, heading for the door again. "And do see to it you wear your lab coat; it's getting tiresome to have to keep telling you."

Ivan chuckled and picked it up off the chair, slipping it on to appease his boss. "Is this better, sir?"

His boss didn't turn around, only set the door to close again and stepped out. When the door clicked shut, Ivan gave it a few moments to be safe before laughing. That went better than he could have even imagined! All that was left to do was pack up and get in touch with a man who could help him. The two weren't exactly friends, but he knew that he would help him if he really needed it. That and with enough money; it didn't matter where in the world a person was. Money always spoke volumes.

Ivan checked the time on his mobile. His day was just about over and if he hurried, he could have everything in order by the end of the day. Waiting around for another day was just too dangerous. Deleting the files from the computer didn't guarantee his safety. He wanted to make the phone call right now, but making that type of phone call somewhere where they would be able to find out if they were really looking would not be a smart move.

He quickly pulled out the folder, grabbing a paper clip to keep it shut and stuffed it in his bag, followed by his notepad and lab coat. A quick visual sweep of the lab told him everything looked good and in place and he smiled as he put on his favourite thick beige coat. Just one last quick run-through to make sure he really deleted the files…

There was no trace of it left on the computer and he was out the door within the minute, ID in hand.

Security gave him no hassle as he swiped out for the day, giving him their usual "Good day, Mr. Braginsky."

Cars whizzed past him on the street, paying little mind to other drivers or the occasional onlooker. Ivan watched them fly down the roads, wondering where they could be off to in such a hurry. Not many people spared the drivers a passing glance, but he liked to watch them drive by. Ivan was one of many who didn't have a car. Not for the fact he didn't have money; he could afford one if he really wanted, but he found it much easier to walk everywhere. Public transportation was always an option and it was cheaper in the long run. His older sister had taught him to drive several years ago, but she took the car they had when she was assigned her job and had to move away. He missed her, but he was glad she had a job.

When he was safely hidden among the crowd of people who couldn't be bothered to listen to his conversation, he pulled out his mobile, dialing the number of the man he hoped would help him. Ivan met this man at university; he was very skilled with computers, able to get away with nearly anything. He could hack, falsify documents, be the world's greatest criminal if he so chose. But he was a good guy at the end of the day; didn't have it in him to do anything that wasn't to help somebody else. How he managed to get away with it all was a mystery; he had a knack for evading trouble, it seemed. If he would just pick up…

"Hello?" Ivan beamed, some of the dread he was feeling instantly dissipating.

"I am in need of your help…"

There was a slight pause. "With what, exactly?"

"I cannot say right now… But I need to disappear."

Ivan ran his thumb over the fabric of his scarf with his free hand as he waited for the answer. Everything was riding on the next few seconds; the words he heard through the receiver would decide Ivan's fate. Today was single-handedly the most nerve-wracking day of Ivan's life and all he wanted was good news to break the chain of events that was unfolding.

"You understand what you're asking of me, right? What it means for you if this doesn't work out?"

"Da, I understand," he answered without hesitating, set in his resolve.

A sigh came from the other end. "You know where to find me. I expect details about what has you ready to up and abandon your country like this. Also know this will be quite the expensive task."

"I will be there shortly and I will pay whatever you are asking."

"See you then." A click and the line went dead.

He couldn't contain his happiness as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket. A grin spread out over his face that he couldn't get rid of no matter what he tried. His thoughts just kept going back to the same thing. He agreed, he was going to meet him now, and by tomorrow he would be safe in another country. It was a gamble, but he knew exactly where he wanted to go…

There was a spring in Ivan's step as he hurried to the flat just outside the centre of Moscow and was buzzed up to the top floor. He opened the door slowly, keeping his bag pressed tightly against him just in case. "Come in," he said as Ivan knocked and the large man entered slowly, not surprised to find the other seated in front of his computer, the screen reflected off his glasses.

"Eduard. It has been a while." Eduard glanced over from his screen, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose until Ivan could see his blue eyes sparkling behind the lenses. The smaller man didn't smile or stand, just simply nodded him over.

"I didn't actually think we'd be meeting again after university, Ivan. I had to give it serious consideration, but if you're that desperate, I figured I had to help you and at least hear what's got _you _so spooked."

Ivan walked up to him, pulling over a chair and putting his bag on his lap. "Thank you for agreeing to help. This is very important…" Eduard turned his chair to face Ivan, his face serious. "Russia cannot go on like this, Eduard."

He scoffed. "You're telling me. I can't even go back home because of everything that's going on. I want to be back in Estonia with my friends and family speaking my native language. Not working at that damn job they have me chained to."

"Tensions are high and we are all walking on eggshells… Everybody is so afraid to do something wrong because of the punishments…" His hands closed tightly around his bag. Eduard watched the large Russian intently. "Will America attack us? Will we attack America? Eduard, if they get this, it is all over…" Ivan sighed and opened the old grey bag, pulling out the folder and tossing it onto the desk beside Eduard. "There will be nothing left."

Eduard picked it up tentatively and set the paper clip down, flipping it open. Ivan looked down at his hands, not saying a word as the smaller man read over the documents, blue eyes widening. "T-This is…"

Ivan nodded. "Da. This is absolutely the tide-changer they are looking for to secure their position. And you understand that I cannot give it to them. I have deleted all records of the existence of these results from the lab and we are currently the only ones who know."

"I didn't think a bomb of this calibre was even possible… Figures it'd be you to come up with something like this, Ivan."

Ivan blinked, tilting his head. "What do you mean by that?"

Eduard shook his head and sighed, setting the folder down. "Never mind… In any case, I see why you want to get out of here. You're sure this is the only copy?"

"Da. I printed it myself, so I am certain."

That eased Eduard's nerves considerably. If no one else knew, there was no cause for alarm. Once Ivan and that folder were on the plane, it would be as if it never existed and there would be nothing to link any of this back to him. "Alright, Ivan. Let's get to work."

Ivan followed the blond with his eyes as Eduard rose from his chair, headed towards the back of the flat. "Are you coming or what?" He jumped from his seat and left the bag on the computer desk, catching up with a few strides.

"Do you know where you want to go?" Ivan was led into a room that could have been a thief's paradise. A credit card machine on one table, a grey sheet hanging from the ceiling to mimic that where passport photos were taken and a plethora of other tools Ivan had never seen before. Eduard sat down at another desk and opened a drawer; inside were passports and documents from dozens of other countries: Belgium, Germany, France, Sweden…

Ivan nodded and answered without a moment's hesitation. "America."

Eduard just stared up at him. "America? You're defecting to _enemy territory? _Think about what it'll mean if they catch you, Ivan."

"They are not going to." He eyed the deep blue passport in Eduard's drawer, eager to get his hands on it. "I have also given this careful consideration. This way I will be safe. America is, as they say, the land of freedom. I will be protected."

Eduard could sit there for the next hour and give Ivan straight facts about why that was a terrible idea, but in the end he would be speaking only for his health. Ivan's mind was made up and there was little he could do to change it. All his well-informed facts and evidence would simply be wasted on the silver-haired Russian. "Just don't forget that they feel the same way about Russians that we do about Americans…"

He pulled the blank American passport out and opened a program on the nearby computer. "If you're going to America, you need a new identity. 'Ivan Braginsky' isn't going to cut it over there. The name's got to change." He opened the deeper drawer of his desk, the old, rusted metal groaning in protest as he fished around for another set of papers. "Aha!"

Ivan blinked as he slammed the new papers onto the desk, tilting his head curiously as he looked at them. He didn't understand a single word that was written on it; it was all in English. "A new name…? What would I even pick?"

Eduard shrugged. "Jim? Robert? Max?" Ivan shook his head at each of them. He didn't like the way any of them sounded. Growing up here and being accustomed to names that were common here made it difficult for him to pick one that just sounded right. It also didn't help that he shot down every single one before really considering it.

"Alex?"

Ivan tapped his chin in thought, giving it careful consideration. It sounded close enough to a name that could be Russian in origin but still passed off as an acceptable American name. "Da. Alex will work."

Eduard nodded and quickly typed it in before Ivan could change his mind. "Now for the surname… I don't know much about American surnames, so let's see what we can find online that may work." Ivan leaned in as Eduard opened the browser, doing a quick search on American names. They read through a long list, stealing glances at each other over just how strange some of them sounded. Eventually they decided to pick one at random, scrolling through the list until the cursor landed on "White."

"So your new name is Alex White," Eduard said matter-of-factly, typing in the surname. He used all of Ivan's real information for the rest; his birthdate, height, eye colour, and other pertinent information the passport required.

"Alex…White…?" Ivan tried it out, not liking the way it sounded when he said it.

"It's too late to change it and I think it's fine. Where in America do you want to be from?"

"New York is really the only place I know of," Ivan said simply. "Does that work?"

Eduard nodded. "That's fine." After making sure all the information was written correctly, he shoved the blank passport into the machine, loading it up. "Now all we need to do is take a photo of you for it and we can fill out the rest. You're going to need a social security number and all that."

Ivan nodded and let the small blond lead him towards the screen. "For what?" He stood straight and looked at the camera, making sure not to flinch as the light went off.

"Security and work and stuff." He plugged the camera into the computer and loaded the image, attaching it to the template. "And now…" All the information was sent to the printer and he handed it to Ivan mere minutes later.

"So this is…" Eduard was typing away at his keyboard, but Ivan didn't look over to see what he was looking at this time. He marveled at the passport in his hands. This was it. His ticket out of here, to a new life, to everything he needed right now. This was really happening and Ivan couldn't be more grateful to the blond.

Another paper came out of the printer, capturing Ivan's attention. "Here." Eduard thrust the sheet at the surprised Russian who took it carefully.

"What is…?" His eyes flickered over the paper.

"Your flight itinerary. You leave tomorrow. I'd hurry if I were you, Alex. Grab only what you'll need to survive and don't miss that flight." It took him a minute to connect that Alex was referring to him. He would have to keep calling himself that in his head for it to stick. "It's not going to be easy. Just remember that whatever happens after you leave this building is all up to you. I don't know if they're going to find you, but you have to assume they will. And don't slip up and go off revealing that you're Russian, you get me?"

Ivan nodded, the same happy grin from earlier on his face. "Thank you, Eduard! This means so much to me!" In a moment of euphoria, he pulled the small blond against his chest in a tight hug and released him as soon as he spluttered and tried to push him away.

He walked into the main room again with Eduard and the latter followed him to the door as he stuffed everything back into his bag, making sure to leave his Russian passport here. Eduard stood in the doorway as Ivan started downstairs, a smirk on his face.

"Oh, and good luck learning English!"

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><p><em><strong>Совершение<strong> **уничтожение** **неизбежно: Complete destruction is inevitable.**_

_**Let me know what you guys think! :3**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**So chapter two went in a different direction than I had originally planned... I hope it's not too terrible overall. Things are going to get interesting for Ivan! Sort of. xD Anyway, let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions, I'm always open to listen. **_

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><p>The flight was the longest of Ivan's life. Aside from all the in-flight announcements being in English, much to Ivan's dismay, the young American couple he was sitting next to talked the entire flight about something that was probably of little to no importance. He was glad that he couldn't understand a word that was spoken, but at the same time, some insight into just why they wouldn't stop talking would have been nice too. Luckily he had a window seat and after about an hour, he was able to stare at the sky and space out, effectively drowning out the incessant jabbering.<p>

Ivan stood against one of the many large New York City buildings, pulling out his phone as it vibrated in his pocket. Eduard had sent him a message, which Ivan was more than thankful for that it was in Russian. Something familiar was just what he needed to keep him afloat in this sea of unfamiliarity. He kept the phone close to him, making sure nobody could look over and spot the Cyrillic characters on his screen. He wasn't expecting to have any more contact with his home country now that he left, so the message also came as a pleasant surprise.

"Hello, Ivan. If you're reading this, I take it you've arrived and the flight went well. No red flags have been raised on this end from what I can tell; just thought I'd leave you with that peace of mind. I managed to find you a place to stay, so you're not going to have to worry about that. Everything else, like I said, is in your hands; I've done just about all I can do for you. The address of your flat is written at the very end of this message. The door will be open. I've also attached a map of sorts; it's a map of Manhattan translated into Russian. But as the streets are numerical and follow a grid pattern, I don't expect you to get lost.

So is New York everything you were hoping for? Don't forget to start learning English as soon as possible. Get a job, stay under the radar, and become American."

Ivan chuckled at the message, scrolling down to find the address right where Eduard said it would be. He was in New York for only a few hours—most of them were spent in the airport as it was—but he already missed the familiarity that was Moscow.

The buildings here were so much bigger than the ones in Moscow, each fighting with the one beside it to see who could reach farther into the sky. There were so many people here, yet Ivan couldn't help but feel incredibly small and alone among the crowd and the skyscrapers.

All the people around him were conversing in English, driving home just how much he didn't belong. After he got settled in his new flat and started getting a feel for where certain things were in this city—food and new clothes were essential; Eduard made sure he had funds transferred over—he could focus on learning this strange, difficult sounding language.

The one thing that he was thankful for was that all the street signs had numerical values instead of actual names. Since numbers were a universal thing except for the pronunciation, Ivan figured he might actually have a shot. He _had _to figure it out on his own; asking for help was completely out of the question. Eduard mentioned in his message that this city followed a grid pattern; that meant going one way would make the numbers increase, and the opposite way would cause them to decrease. It was simple enough in theory…

"West 35th and 8th" read the address, followed by the numbers which must have been for his specific room. Ivan looked up at the nearby street sign, then looked around at the people walking beside him before turning back to the sign. So from what he could gather from the sign, he was somewhere on W23rd. There wasn't too much further he had to go.

He took a couple blocks, nearly cursing aloud in Russian when he realised he was going in the wrong direction. Several people cast him a sideways glance, the smallest girl of the group giggling to herself. Ivan just blinked and tilted his head, unsure just what that was about. He didn't look that out of place, did he?

Ivan took a minute to compare what he was wearing to what the others around him were. He was still clad in his favourite beige coat, a simple white shirt and dark pants, and a scarf. In his mind, he was casually dressed; no cause for alarm there. But standing side-by-side to the people around him, he stuck out like a sore thumb. The men of New York wore professional yet casual clothes. There were many a black suit and long, dark jacket. Many of the men were dressed as if they had just come from work or they were going to a fancy event; it was impossible to tell just by looking and from what he knew, _anything _could happen in New York. Ivan made a mental note of the fashion here and would have to get himself new clothes as soon as possible.

In hopes to blend in more with the crowd, Ivan removed his jacket, quickly stuffing it into the bag he carried with him. Some young men were dressed in simple T-shirts and pants, so it brought him a little more comfort knowing he wouldn't have to drastically change his style. But there was also the problem with his hair…

Ivan was only in his early twenties; a rather young man, yet he and his two sisters all had silvery-white hair despite their youthful ages. His hair colour was uncommon back home, and here it seemed that it was the same way; only men much older than him had grey or even white hair. That made the Russian feel slightly better—changing his hair colour was something he refused to do.

He smiled as he glanced up from his phone, checking the number on the sign. W29th. Just a few more blocks and he would finally get to see what his new flat looked like. Thoughts of America and New York, a new job, and a new flat filled his mind the entire flight; those eight hours flew by as he watched the sky longingly, eager to arrive. Even now in this big city, seeing all these incredible buildings, New York was the only thing he could think about. The flat he lived in in Moscow was fairly small. While it was bigger than many of the others that full-families lived in, looking around at these incredibly large American buildings made it seem that much smaller.

Swept up in his own thoughts, he walked right into a young boy, blinking and stumbling backwards. The boy yelped and quickly righted himself, giving Ivan a surprised look. Before Ivan could even fix his scarf, the kid let loose a barrage of excited words, completely losing him. He spoke so fast and all the words jumbled together; could native English speakers even understand the kid? What was he so excited about, anyway?

He pretended to listen as the kid went on and on, taking in the young boy's appearance. His blue eyes were as bright as his personality, full of life and energy just like the kid seemed to be even if Ivan couldn't understand a single word he said. His golden hair was just as bright as the rest of him—it reminded Ivan of sunflowers, one of his favourite things—reflecting the sunlight. Even that one strand of hair that stuck up out of place seemed to work for him; it was just as strange as he was. He was dressed like many of the other men he saw; a black suit from head to toe that looked rather sharp on him, serving to make his blond hair even brighter in comparison.

Suddenly a hand was thrust out toward him and Ivan tensed slightly, blinking down at the blond. Just his luck, Ivan thought, staring at his hand. The blond wanted something of him and he had no idea what it was. Just breathe, he figured. Relax. There was a way to get himself out of this one; if he could play along long enough to get the kid to lose interest, then all wasn't lost just yet.

Those blue eyes were staring at him expectedly, his hand still outstretched. He kept repeating something to him, Ivan tilting his head slightly as he tried to make sense of it. "I'm Alfred," the boy said, and suddenly it clicked. Alfred was a name; he was telling him his name! Handshakes were also a form of introduction back home, so Ivan reached out tentatively to shake his hand.

"Iv—ah!" Ivan blinked and cleared his throat, immediately trying to cover up his mistake. He nearly gave away his name! Alex, not Ivan. Making stupid mistakes like that was exactly what he had to watch out for. He caught himself this time, just barely, but what was to say he would be so lucky the next time?

Alfred tilted his head, keeping his hand closed around Ivan's. "You okay, dude? Are you sick?!"

"Alex," Ivan said simply, trying his best to mimic Alfred's accent.

"Alex, huh?" Alfred repeated, looking him over. Ivan nodded and stood perfectly still, letting the strange blond do whatever it was that he doing. Suddenly that large grin spread out over his face again and he shook his hand excitedly. "Nice to meet you, Alex! So do you live around here or what? Where you headed?" Ivan blinked and shrugged, figuring it was an appropriate response to whatever Alfred might have been asking him.

Ivan quickly pulled his hand back when Alfred let it go, watching as the young blond pouted. He acted an awful lot like a child for somebody who looked to be so close in age to Ivan. Was this the effect of living here for so long or was it just his personality? The other people Ivan saw walking by didn't seem to be quite as _eccentric _as this kid; it must have just been him after all. But listening to the kid go on and on sent a wave of relief through the Russian; somehow he managed to fool this kid—how, he wasn't quite sure because Ivan figured his accent would have given him away in an instant—and they were having a what would be normal if Ivan could speak English conversation.

Ivan was secretly proud of himself. If he could do it with one person, he could do it with another and that meant there was hope for him yet. He could definitely learn to blend in; it would just take a little time, a lot of practise, and dedication. Hopefully it wasn't just the kid's seemingly short attention span and not so keen eye for detail that was the reason for his so far smooth sailing… No, that definitely wasn't it. He didn't want that to be it.

He didn't realise that Alfred had suddenly gone silent, staring intently at his watch. The Russian tilted his head slightly, throwing a quizzical look the blond's way. Did he forget something? Was he late? Just what was going on?

Ocean orbs widened as he continued to stare at the clock. "Fuck!" he suddenly exclaimed, making Ivan jump slightly. He didn't need to know the meaning of that word to know that something was wrong.

"Hm…?" Ivan was more than curious to hear what would come out of Alfred's mouth next even if he wouldn't understand a single word. He couldn't help it; he just found the kid so unexplainably fascinating.

Alfred shook his head, looking rather upset with himself. He bounced on his heels anxiously, glancing up from Ivan to his watch and back again. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, getting more and more flustered. "I'm sorry Alex, but I didn't even realise the time! Sorry to just run off on you; maybe we can meet up again sometime? But I've got to go; I'm super late! My boss is going to kill me…"

Ivan just blinked as the blond waved and took off, clutching his small bag protectively. The thought that maybe this could have been an extremely well-planned trick by his people was always present in the back of his mind, controlling to an extent Ivan's actions. And if the kid was tasked with stealing the file he was trying so hard to protect…? That was it; it was all over. Whatever just happened was strange to say the least, but Ivan didn't feel like dwelling on it too much, especially when he still had his new flat to find and move into. Nobody touched his bag, which meant the file was still safely hidden inside. His excitement was already causing him to forget about the strange boy he just encountered. New York was probably full of people like this. And in such a big city, who was to say he would ever even meet him again? The chances were _incredibly _slim.

Not that Ivan would mind terribly another encounter with the strange American.

After another ten or so minutes of walking—and greatly appreciating this grid system that Manhattan had—he found his flat, double-checking the numbers on his phone and on the building just to be sure.

Ivan looked up at it in awe. The flat stood at least seven stories high and was in slightly better condition than the one he was used to living in. The white paint on the outside of the building started fading and chipping in some areas and the heavy wooden door had appeared to have seen better days. But despite that, it was a home and it looked to be in one piece, so there wasn't much more Ivan could ask for.

When he was finally tired of looking at it, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and hurried inside, eager to get off the street and see what awaited him behind the doors. He was looking for apartment 6-F and for better or for worse, that would be Ivan's place to stay.

The flat, much to his surprise, had a lift that accessed all floors. His flat back in Moscow, despite having several floors but still not being as large as this one, had only one flight of stairs that led to the top floor. He walked slowly up to the lift, examining it curiously. It wasn't the first Ivan had seen, but the fact that it was so readily accessible in the place where he would be living was amazing. He half wanted to try it out, but figured he would save that for a later date. If he took the lift now, he wouldn't get to see the other floors on his way up and possibly would miss out on catching glimpses of the other residents.

Were they foreigners too? Ivan wondered as he started slowly up the staircase, staring at the light coloured wallpaper. It faded and peeled in some spots, mostly close to the floor or around the doorframe of a good portion of the rooms. Already it seemed nicer than the flat he lived in; his was much smaller and in worse condition, the walls broken and crumbling, hoping somebody would come around to fix them. But nobody ever did.

One of the residents on the third floor had their door open and Ivan couldn't help but peer inside, hoping to catch sight of the people who lived there. A girl walked into view, stepping into the kitchen to toss a small bowl into the sink, pausing and locking eyes with Ivan when she noticed him looking in. Ivan blinked, violet eyes widening as he felt his cheeks heating up slightly with embarrassment. He was hoping to see the person there, not to get caught himself. What would people think about that here? Would they think he was weird or creepy for looking into somebody's residence?

Much to Ivan's surprise, the girl—who didn't look to be a day over fifteen years old—smiled and giggled, waving at him. He hid part of his face in his scarf as he could feel her eyes examining him, waving back shyly when he summoned the courage to do so. Ivan didn't know why he was getting so flustered; as long as she didn't try to talk to him, he would be fine.

"Hi!" she chirped, the smile still on her face. "I don't think I've seen you before… Do you live here now?"

So much for that, Ivan thought sullenly, blinking in surprise. What had she said…? It sounded like a question: best to just smile and nod and hopefully she wouldn't ask him anything else. Ivan nodded, tilting his head when the girl gave him a thumbs-up, smiling.

"Welcome!"

That must have been the right thing to do, Ivan figured, just smiling again at the girl. When the girl giggled and disappeared deeper into the room, he sighed in relief and quickly hurried up the next flight of stairs, hoping nobody else would try to talk to him.

Were there any Russian speaking people here? he found himself wondering as he reached the fifth floor. How many other people had come here like he did?

A rather tall, dark-haired man was leaning over the railing on the fifth floor, taking a drag of a cigarette and filling the hall with smoke. Ivan glanced at him curiously as he puffed out his smoke in rings, watching them disappear over the stairway. He grunted a simple 'Hello' and nothing more as Ivan passed by, to which the Russian returned with a nod before heading up to his floor.

The staircase extended up for some time, but Ivan paused to take in the sight of the floor he would be calling home, not wanting to miss a single detail. There were eight rooms in total on this floor, he noticed: four on each side of the hall. About halfway down the hall, one of the several wall lights flickered lightly, giving Ivan the impression of a shady motel room scene. The wallpaper, like he noticed on his way up, was also tearing in certain areas, but Ivan didn't care. It was all perfect, from the ceiling that could certainly benefit from a new paint job down to the scuffed up wooden floors.

His room was the third one down on the right. Sunlight filtered through the cloudy window, the small silver handle practically glowing before him. The door was open, just like Eduard had said it would be. The man didn't look like much, but Eduard was one you could count on; always stayed true to his word. His reach extended all the way out to America… Ivan was glad to have somebody like him on his side.

The door swung open with a slight creak—an easy fix if Ivan could find where to get the tools to do so—and he stepped into a small living room. The room had just the bare minimum, yet everything he needed. There stood a couch, a chair, and a small table sitting in the centre of the small room. There were two small windows side by side on the left wall, giving him a halfway decent view until one of the many other buildings obscured the view.

Ivan momentarily forgot about the rest of the flat as he wandered over to the window, taking in the sight of the city from the sixth floor. The view was breathtaking. This city prided itself on being huge and loud, announcing its presence to the world. New York had a way of making everyone feel so small in comparison yet so big all at the same time. All Ivan would have to do was find his place in this huge city.

He could stare out that window for hours and probably would if he hadn't remember that he had the rest of his new living quarters to scope out. A small folded up slip of paper on the table caught Ivan's eye and he walked over to it, delicately unfurling it. A small copper key fell into his palm and Ivan turned it over in his hand, examining it. It was the key to his flat, he realised, stuffing it into his pants pocket for safekeeping. Ivan's eyes widened as for the second time today, he found himself staring at the familiarity that was the Cyrillic alphabet.

_«Привет, Иван. Здесь ключ квартиры. Тебе понравились? Тебе нужно искать работу. Очень, очень важно. Я советую гулять по городу. Узнать улиц, магазинов... Книжный магазин рядом с тобой. Там продают книг по-английскому.»_

New York and Eduard just continued to surprise the Russian. How did he get this into the flat? It had to be somebody he trusted very well for him to just hand over a paper written in Russian. If anybody were to open it and discover its contents, Ivan would probably have found himself in cuffs before he could even have opened it. This letter made him incredibly happy even if he knew he would have to dispose of it properly.

Stuffing that in his other pocket, he continued into the other rooms. There was the one small living room he entered through, a kitchen that could just barely fit him—he would have to do plenty of shopping once he acquired a stable means of income—a small bedroom with a closet, much to Ivan's surprise—he was used to having a wardrobe in which hung he all his clothes—and the bathroom, which shocked him most of all. Bathrooms in America had the shower and the toilet in one room? Back in Russia, they had been in separate rooms for as long as Ivan could remember. He wasn't quite sure how he liked the idea yet; it was convenient in theory, yet strange all at the same time. The Russian was sure he would get used to it, however, and probably even like it better than what he was used to.

The flat was small, yet quiet and comfortable, Ivan decided after his second walk-through of the place. He couldn't yet get over the fact that this entire living space was his and his alone. He was expecting to see so many families living together in these small rooms. But as far as he could see, he was the only one in here. Just another amazing thing to add to the rapidly growing list.

Meeting with his neighbours was something he would save for a later date, though he was looking forward to trying to make friends with them. For a brief second, that strange boy from earlier—Alfred or something like that—popped into Ivan's mind and the Russian could only hope that once he learned English, he could meet the boy again.

Ivan ran his fingers over the crumpled letter in his pocket, deciding to take Eduard's advice. While he had all the time in the world to learn the layout of New York, he wanted to do it right now. The jetlag hadn't quite kicked in yet and Ivan was eager to make the most of his first day in America. He found himself quickly locking the door and heading back downstairs, the man he caught smoking earlier no longer standing around.

Taking a deep breath of the city air, he looked around, trying to figure out just which way to go next. Eduard had said there was a bookstore near him, but _where _exactly was a whole different story. And what did «книжный магазин» translate to in English? Ivan could clearly picture a bookstore filled with books in his head, but he had no idea what shapes or letters to be looking for on the signs he passed by. He would just have to settle for looking in the shop windows until he saw what he was looking for. It couldn't be that hard to find in this…huge city…right?

He picked a random direction and started walking, sure he would come across a bookstore somewhere around here. The walk was exactly what Ivan needed: fresh air, lots of people to watch and silently question in his head, and many different food stores. Ivan was amazed at just how many different kinds of places there were to eat from. He would have to try them all someday. Ivan loved the friendly atmosphere of those little coffee shop bakeries he passed by. While Ivan wasn't coffee's biggest fan, he could drink it—especially during long nights of work—with no problems. Was American coffee any different from Russian? He paused to look through the window again. There were so many people inside sitting and talking, enjoying their steaming drinks. Maybe that was a good place to start meeting people and making friends? He would also try with the people that lived in his flat. Surely they were all nice people and if he had to see them often in his building, it made sense to be friendly with them, right?

Finally, after nearly an hour of wandering around New York and ending up a considerable distance away from his flat, he found himself looking into the window of a local bookstore, smiling triumphantly. He had found it! Whether or not this was the one that Eduard was referring to in his note, it was still a bookstore. And it was incredible! This particular store had two floors and books that Ivan was dying to read someday.

It would be so easy to get lost in this store—Ivan had a love for reading and could get lost in it—but he was on a mission. He had to find where they kept the books on English language and grammar. Ivan had seen the words "English" and "language" before back home on various documents, so he knew what the books had to say on their front cover. Outside from those words and perhaps one or two others, he had the rest of the language to learn.

Ivan headed to the cashier with his arms full of English language books in all difficulty levels. There were books on grammar, usage, colloquial terms, and everything in-between. Whatever he found, he grabbed. He had enough money changed over from when he arrived that he could afford these books, but was surprised at the exchange rate.

He had a plan in mind: take the next few weeks and study these books day and night. If he could figure out where to buy it from, he would settle down in his living room with as much tea as he could get and study until he could have some semblance of a conversation. Then once he did that, he could get a job. Or was it possible to get a job without knowing English…? Money wouldn't last forever, after all.

Surely he could get a job despite how demeaning it might be. He made the choice to leave his position as a weapons engineer and would have to deal with the consequences. But America was the land of opportunity! Ivan was sure he could work his way back up to a respectable position.

Ivan set the books down on the counter and pulled money out of his pocket, not noticing the strange look the cashier was giving him. The small boy eyed his purchase carefully before giving Ivan a puzzled look, the Russian watching the cash register intently to figure out just how much he would have to pay for all of this.

"A lot of books… You working on a paper?" he tried in a soft voice, making friendly conversation.

Ivan didn't register the brunet's words, studying the screen carefully.

"It must be a really tough paper." Emerald eyes watched the Russian for any kind of response, more than curious to see what his reaction would be. Ivan blinked, looking at the boy for the first time. He hummed in agreement, nodding in what he hoped was the right answer and would end this line of questioning. Ivan was getting nervous. Nodding could only get him so far…

"So what are you writing about?" Ivan just stared at the small brunet.

Emerald eyes focused on the counter and the boy spoke his next sentence in a voice so soft, Ivan had to strain his ears to hear it. But as soon as he heard the first word, Ivan's eyes widened in shock and he had to fight back the urge to flee or attack the small boy.

«Вы русский...да?»

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ah! I forgot the translations on my first upload! Простите меня...<br>**_

**_Привет, Иван. Здесь ключ квартиры. Тебе понравились? Тебе нужно искать работу. Очень, очень важно. Я советую гулять по городу. Узнать улиц, магазинов... Книжный магазин рядом с тобой. Там продают книг по-английскому. : Hello, Ivan. Here is the key to the apartment. Do you like it? You need to find work. It's very, very important. I advise walking around the city. Learn streets, stores... There's a bookstore near you. They sell books on English._**


End file.
